


So This Is Christmas

by catsaremyboyfriend



Series: Asexual Snuggle Buddies [17]
Category: Black Widow (Comics), Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Young Avengers
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/F, F/M, Multi, Other, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 11:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5538332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsaremyboyfriend/pseuds/catsaremyboyfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>merry christmas, my dear Mx_Carter!! Sorry this is a day late but you know...Christmas. Anyway, enjoy this terrible fluff :)</p></blockquote>





	So This Is Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mx_Carter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mx_Carter/gifts).



“Babe, it’s _Christmas_ ,” Darcy pouts, holding out a kitten. Natasha is more interested in the way that makes the hemline of Darcy’s flouncy red dress rise, but she looks up anyway. 

Christmas is popular enough in Russia, but not very popular in the childhood of an assassin. She could say this, and Darcy would frown, put the animal down. Natasha tries not to manipulate her though. 

“We don’t need a cat, Darcy,” she says instead. The kitten, a small black scrap with yellow eyes, blinks up at her. 

“The cat needs us!” Darcy insists, pressing closer; she smells like the gingerbread she’s been baking all day. Her mouth is soft so Natasha takes it, pulling the kitten from her grasp. It’s a warm ball.

Natasha feels her heart soften. “Alright, Darcy.” The smile she gets in return is nearly blinding, worth more than anything. “We’re naming her Liho.” 

“I’ll take care of her, I promise.” 

Natasha thinks of Darcy holding her when she wakes up babbling about red, how Darcy painstakingly recreated the childhood meals Natasha only vaguely remembers. She smiles. “I know you will.”  
*  
“Merry Christmas, dear.” Emma’s standing in the doorway of their bedroom, wearing red lingerie trimmed with white fur. It probably cost more than Jean’s car. Jean follows the line of her long legs, to Emma’s lips turned up in a smirk. “Oh my God, Emma.” 

**Do you like what you see?** Emma sends to her, stepping in.

**Like you don’t already know** , Jean laughs, tugging her forward with telekinesis. “Come over here so I can unwrap you.”

Emma comes, crawling between Jean’s legs, blond hair falling over her shoulders. Jean wraps her hands in it, bending to kiss the Mark on Emma’s shoulder. It reads, _Get back, Frost!_

Emma kisses her, deep, then smiles. “Getting sentimental?” She touches the _Stand down, little Jean Grey_ on Jean’s collarbone. 

“Maybe a little,” Jean answers, hooking her leg over the small of Emma’s back. “Now, where were we?” 

She sends a few choice thoughts towards Emma, who grins. “Oh, I believe we were somewhere very interesting indeed.” She leans in as Jean turns the lights off.  
*  
“I would leave my soulmate for you,” a man tells Ororo when she’s thirteen. He offers her money, houses, anything she wants, like he doesn’t realize the value of what his future holds. 

“You haven’t found your soulmate yet,” she tells him. “You don’t know. And I am destined for a god.” 

She knows because her mark says so, _You are a powerful mortal!_ Ororo spends her life knowing that she is bound for the gods. She just didn’t expect them to be Norse ones.

It isn’t until Thor turns to her during a fight and bellows, “You are a powerful mortal!” that she realizes she’s never talked to him before. 

She uses lightning to rend a robot into a million glittering shards and shouts, “I am!” over his thunder. 

She doesn’t realize how big her smile is until she lands and Wolverine grunts, “Turn that smile off, I’m gonna go blind.” He’s smirking, so she takes it as the compliment it is.

“I have found my soulmate,” she announces, and he claps her on the back.

“Good for you, babe.” She waves Thor over as Logan leaves, watches Thor’s broad grin widen. 

“Storm! Am I correct-I mean-” He calms himself, taking her hand; Thor is always so formal. “My apologies. I just meant to ask-”

“I am,” she interrupts, squeezing his hand, feeling the sky begin to clear.

He steps closer, towering over her. “Asgard will be honored to have you as queen,” he declares, sparking a little. She nods once, because she _will_ make a good queen. 

She goes on her toes to kiss him, feels the rough scrape of his beard. He’s gentle, careful with her; she’s always liked how respectful he is. “And I, a good husband for a woman such as you,” he promises, intimate. The skies are clear, but there is a roll of thunder far off. She laughs.  
*  
Wanda doesn’t like Christmas. She hates endless carols and too much energy messing up her magic. She peers out the window and sees large drifts of snow, more spiraling down. 

Turning away, she meets Vision’s gaze; he’s seated at their breakfast table, smiling. “A Merry Christmas, Wanda?” 

She goes to put a hand on his head, the metal cool under her fingertips. “You know it isn’t.” 

He sips his tea, considering. “It could be. Many humans enjoy this holiday.” 

Giving up, she sits across from him, stealing the tea without his argument. “I’m not Scrooge. It just messes up my magic which makes my head ache.”

“Alright, Wanda.” His skin gleams in the light as he bends over his book. 

Without Vision, Wanda would be alone. People without soulmarks are aberrations, they’re broken; even being a witch who lives with a robot is better. Not just better, she decides, catching the thread of Vision’s hum; it’s Jingle Bells, the jerk. Living with him is best, her best friend.

She closes the blinds with a snap of her fingers, returning her gaze to Vision. “Merry Christmas, Wanda.” 

She rolls her eyes, ignoring his smile. “Merry Christmas, Vision.”  
*  
Gwen’s favorite holiday is Christmas. Kamala is Muslim and America doesn’t come from this planet. “I don’t understand mistletoe,” America says, batting it away from her face. Gwen sighs and kisses her anyway. 

“Christmas music gets stuck in my head and _won’t get out_ ,” Kamala whispers desperately, but she gamely hums along when Gwen sings Silent Night.

On Christmas Eve, Gwen leaves out cookies for Santa even though she doesn’t believe anymore and the other two never did. She tiptoes back to their room where America is sprawled out on her back, Kamala in a tight ball on her left. Gwen squeezes herself in under America’s arm, blows a strand of Kamala’s hair out of her face. 

It’s Christmas; she knows America and Kamala got her something special. She knows they’ll be happy because she’s happy. Snuggling in close to America, grabbing Kamala’s hand, she falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> merry christmas, my dear Mx_Carter!! Sorry this is a day late but you know...Christmas. Anyway, enjoy this terrible fluff :)


End file.
